earthenringfandomcom-20200214-history
Feyrin Raventalon
=Physical Description= He stands tall, obviously Half-Elven given his height and slightly tipped ears, with a haughty look about him. Arms crossed over his chest usually, he glances with aged hazel eyes, to each individual with a arrogant, mild grin. Carrying an arsenal of weaponry, it's not difficult to tell Feyrin's had his fair share of adventures, as well as battles. Usually garbed in exquisite High-Elven robes, affiliated with Silvermoon, that roll down the length of his body. Massive plated spaulders sit on his shoulders, large jagged razors standing upright on each. He sports many scars and markings, three scars most noteworthy. First, a long, thin scar running horizontally across his throat that looks that it should have been fatal. Second, a jaggedly carved, thick scar running cross-ways over his chest (top left to lower right). Lastly, what looks to be dozens of lashes from a crude whip covering his back. =Personality= A showboat of superiority, would best describe how he appears to most. Sadist, hypocritical and consumed in his own illusion of honor. Though he hides a deeper side to him, drowning it out to the public with his rude, and occasionally drunken behavior. To the few that know him, he would seem surprisingly wise, and philosophical. Though his age often would appear to dull his sharp mind. Usually masking his magical prowess and strength, he'd most likely appear to be just another pompous magi who can't get off his high horse. =Weaponry, Artifacts & Equipment= The Bastard Blade of Raventalon Forged some thousand years ago of Arcanite by the Quel'Dorei named Bemarrin, aptly named after it's owner. It's creation was painstaking and continually delayed due to complications. The Arcanite alone was difficult enough to gather, let alone the special qualities required to forge what was sought to be created. For a weapon as powerful as desired to be created, a unique quality was needed, that being water from the Sunwell itself. Once gathered, the vial of enchanted water was mixed into the forge's contents. Being one of the very first Vampiric Runeblades to come into existence, it's had much time to grow in power, it's strong instinct to survive having kept it intact thus far. The blade's beautiful and magnificently shaped edge and hilt mask a deeper, darker truth beneath gems and golden coatings. Drawing the life force from those it strikes, it slowly drains the energy from it's victims until it strikes it's foe dead, or drains them completely through a long and painful process. After storing the souls of those slain, it then fuels it's wielder with a portion of that power. Now a days, the Bastard Sword lays quietly, patiently, within the depths of it's golden and silver sheath across Feyrin's back. Halberd of the Horseman It's base and bladed tip made of weighted Thorium and length forged of Mithril, this spear-like Halberd proves to be the perfect weapon in both mounted and medium ranged melee combat. With both opposing ends being weighted to balance almost perfectly, the weapon has a flow almost of it's own. It lays cross-ways over the Bastard Sword on Feyrin's back. The Sunbreaker Rapier Once wielded by one of the generals of Quel'Thalas during the Troll Wars, this blade was taken up by Feyrin as the general had fallen, and used to slay countless Trolls. Elegantly forged, this slender blade sits perfectly balanced in one's hand, light as a feather from the masterwork crafting of the Quel'Dorei. Slipped into a slim leather scabbard, it sits along Feyrin's belt. The Tome of Nordrassil Roughly 6" thick, 1' long and 8" wide, this musty old tome dangles precariously at the end of a small silver chain around Feyrin's belt. It's pages with chapter upon chapter of thousands of spells, both Old Magic and New, were carved from the very world tree itself. How such an act was performed under the Kaldorei's eyes is unknown,but proof of the book's powers has been displayed on countless occasions during combat with Feyrin. The Dagger of Desecration Tucked securely under Feyrin's robes, this thick, jagged and grotesquely shaped dagger is stained in blood and foul magic. Dark runes of fel magic and necromancy litter the blade's face in messy knots overlaying each other, obviously used for dark rituals and sacrifices. Talons of the Raven Having sustained irreparable damage to the bone structure of his forearms during an intense moment of combat with Adorix the Frostlasher, Feyrin has replaced the fragmented and shattered bones of his forearms with Elementium, which contributes a great deal to his combat capabilities when absorbing, channeling and controlling elemental magics. At his finger tips where his nails should be, he's replaced them with keenly sharpened talons. Shards of the Frostlasher In the heat of battle between Feyrin Raventalon and Adorix the Frostlasher at Windrunner Spire these shards spawned from. During the battle between the two, the phylactery of Adorix was improperly destroyed causing a colossal magical implosion. With the mounting magical energies reaching a staggering level and collapsing, the end result turned into a fatal explosion for both Adorix and Feyrin. The catastrophe sent the dozens of phylactery shards across Azeroth, all but two. Those two embed themselves within Feyrin's outstretched palm into the the center of the implosion. Having removed both shards during his reconstruction, Feyrin now wears the shards of the phylactery around his neck attached to a tight-fitting silver chain. The Shards of the Frostlasher now aid Feyrin in the detection and hunting of Undead beings. Though on the flip side, with shards of a Lich's phylactery near him Feyrin now acts as a homing beacon to all cursed with Undeath, as well as appearing to be one to those of Holy professions. Potion Injection Kit As an alchemist, Feyrin has many a use for his alchemical concoctions. However he's taken his potion brewing one step further. Having had a rather controversial mechanism created to make his potion usage even more combat effective. Using a series of small tubes leading from a mechanism attached to his upper-left chest they move down the outside of his left bicep and puncture into his brachial artery. The machine itself looks to be a simple circular control device. Five buttons lay in a semi-circle row along the edge of the machine, each activating a small vial that protrudes from the outside of the machine above each button. Using this potion injection kit, Feyrin can inject anything from a healing, to an adrenalin vial directly into his blood. Deadly Brews Using an array of potions, flasks and elixirs Feyrin is capable of brewing up many fantastical herbal concoctions capable of curing, healing and restoring. However the miracles of alchemy aren't limited to the classical potion of healing or protection. Having implemented a series of... darker floral, Feyrin uses alchemy for a much more combat oriented reason. These are just a few of his deadly brews... Hellfire Flask Brewed from Firethorn, Flame Cap and Firebloom with the end result then used to soak Dense Blasting Powder. This highly explosive mixture, if thrown with enough force it acts as a sort of napalm, dousing all within an radius of ten feet in intense flames, reaching 850-950 degrees Fahrenheit. "New Plague v3.5" With the Royal Apothecary Society constantly in research for a new plague to exterminate Azeroth's denizens, Feyrin's taken it upon himself to conjure up a counter-plague to throw the Forsaken a bit of a curve ball. The potion consisting of Lichbloom, Black Lotus, Plaguebloom, Arthas' Tears and Grave Moss. Contained in a small vial, the mixture can be thrown at the victim or even near the victim. With the mixture exposed to air, the vapors released can reach a radius of up to 50 feet on a calm day. Including winds this volatile brew can reach anywhere from 100-500 feet carried by the wind, spreading it's plague. First Symptom - Within a few seconds of inhaling "New Plague v3.5" the victim would begin to suffer from coughing and vomiting, possibly spreading the plague. Second Symptom - After several minutes of inhaling "New Plague v3.5" the victim would begin to suffer from nausea, fatigue and dementia. Third Symptom - Beginning roughly three hour after inhaling "New Plague v3.5" the victim would begin to suffer from ataxia and internal hemorrhaging. As well, fatigue would progressively become worse. Fourth Symptom - At the point of 12 hours after inhaling "New Plague v3.5" the victim would begin to suffer from heart failure and encephalitis. Fifth Symptom - Death Froststorm Elixir Consisting of Frost Lotus, Icethorn and Wintersbite mixed with a Course Blasting Powder and Runic Mana Potion this concoction is similar to the Hellfire Flask brew. With a forceful throw the elixir acts as a dangerously effective alchemical frost nova. Hurled at the ground, on impact the shattering elixir sends a wave of ice in all directions reaching -125 degrees Fahrenheit. =Combat= Melee Combat Style Built slender and lean, it's no surprise Feyrin's not one to be able to take direct hits. Using a combination of mind-bogglingly complex maneuvers and counter parries, combined with magically enhanced defenses, he absorbs, deflects and counter-maneuvers his opponents. His fighting style shifts and is based primarily upon his attacker's style of combat in most occasions, making his close quarters combat both flexible and technical. Magical Combat Style Virtually unparalleled in, the art of magical warfare and combat is Feyrin's most feared tool of destruction among his array of weaponry. Utilizing a combination of ancient enchanted artifacts, intense study and sheer willpower over the arcane weave, Feyrin draws from many categories of magical study. His main focus of energy draws from the element of fire, pyromancy. In an onslaught of pillars of flame, spontaneous combustion, orbs of molten rock and anything the imagination could dream up, he attacks in a slurry of styles and tactics to keep his opponents on their toes. Mounted Combat Style Rarely caught in combat in this form, however, Feyrin still maintains his technique now days since his recruitment into the Brotherhood of the Horse. Using a jousting method, Feyrin spearheads into combat, wielding his Halberd in one hand, pinned under the pit of his arm, and in the other hand usually duel-wielding his Rapier. Weaknesses Feyrin's seemingly unassailable power comes from his confidence, powerful artifacts and impressive knowledge of the arcane. However, he does have his weaknesses and if exploited, one can easily fell this mighty adversary. Both his combat and magical skills are enhanced by the numerous magical artifacts he holds with him. Even his robes are thoroughly enchanted with protective magic to act as though they were the finest set of chain-mail, but move like the lightest silk. Disenchantment should be a first act as an adversary of Baron Raventalon. To have even the slightest chance, Feyrin's contingent and current spell defenses must be stripped away. This will leave Feyrin Raventalon completely unguarded. Don't raise your chin yet to boastfully laugh in victory, or you'll find a blade at your throat. His defensive spells struck down, the Baron still sports an array of highly destructive spells and weaponry that still hold enchantment. Only most artifacts within his possession may be neutralized, if only temporarily. If you've managed to not be incinerated yet, one's next step should be to ward yourself by whatever means against Feyrin's magical assaults. Finally, if you've still managed to survive the kill is for the taking, but be aware this is still a trained Alliance General, and can just as easily hack his way through an enemy. Good luck, and good hunting.. (Please note, this information isn't to be abused, or read here and be used In Character as if just suddenly figured out. This information is provided as a hint for those that would have observed Feyrin's fighting. As well, this is in place to redeem in a small way what some would claim as an "overpowered" Feyrin. This is just one of many guidelines for a fight strategy I could have posted though. To put it simply, be smart and maybe Feyrin wouldn't kick every would-be villain's backside every time.) =Patrons= Terokk Occupation: God of the Arakkoa, founder and King of Skettis Aviana, the Lady Raven Titles: The Falcon Goddess Occupation: Messenger of the gods; Mistress of Birds; Lady of G'Hanir; Tactical Spy of Cenarius Ragnaros the Firelord Titles: Firelord Occupation: Firelord, Fire Elemental King, Elemental Lieutenant, Elemental Lord Nozdormu the Bronze Titles: The Timeless One, Lord of Time, The Timeless Occupation: Guardian of Azeroth's timestream Malygos the Blue Titles: The Spellweaver (or Spell-weaver), the Lord of Magic, the Steward of Magic Occupation: The guardian of magic and hidden arcanum. =Quotes= "Don't make me incinerate you." "Hey. You, idiot. With the dull expression reflecting your lack of a thought process and that name I don't bother remembering." "That's not a bloody Moonwell you twat! It's a pond! You know I saw an Elekk shit in that? And yet you're swimming in it... still." "I am the blessed and the cursed. Ravager of the living and warder of the reaper. I have happened upon destiny, yet come across luck through prophecy. I bring hope to the hopeless, but am the harbinger of your doom. What I'm really trying to say is simply this. Don't make me bloody incinerate you..." "Stop touching my hat gods damn it!" "Bloody hells." =Brief History= Pre-Warcraft: Orcs & Humans, Warcraft: Orcs & Humans, Warcraft 2, Warcraft 3 Feyrin Raventalon's served in many highly respected, and shunned, orders throughout the centuries. Having been one of the very first one-hundred of the Humans to be taught the ways of the Arcane by the High Elves during the Troll Wars, he later on was offered rank amongst the Council of Tirisfall, due to his eccentric wisdom and magical prowess. Later though, however, Feyrin would retire from his position as Councilman due to his disagreement with the Council's decision to hide the Legion's minor, but still existing presence on Azeroth, claiming that having the problem hidden would only encourage the reckless use of magics and once again bring the Legion. Later, having traveled many miles Feyrin was to be greeted by Stormwind Keep's gates. Feyrin's magical skills put to the test, he joined along side Lothar to serve King Llane Wrynn I. Having survived capture when attempting to retrieve the Tome of Divinity, storming Karazhan to kill Medivh and Stormwind Keep's fall while Lothar lead it's people to Lordaeron, Feyrin Raventalon was quickly named General as the Alliance of Lordaeron was formed. After Anduin Lothar's death, Feyrin was once again thrown into the fray as the Alliance Expedition marched toward the Dark Portal. In a shameful act however, Feyrin pulled those under his command back, evading what appeared certain death as the Dark Portal collapsed. The trek back to Lordaeron was long and dangerous, draining his supplies and his troops' moral. During his travels, bits and pieces of the Scourge invasion trickled down south, eventually reaching General Raventalon's ears. Doubling his efforts now, his battalion rushed to aid, following Jaina Proudmoore to Kalimdor. With the defeat of the Legion, and the forming of the Horde and Alliance, Feyrin returned to Stormwind. Though light was never shed on Feyrin's survival from the Dark Portal's collapse, he was eventually made Lt. Commander of the Stormwind City Guard and an active member of the Brotherhood of the Horse. Still keeping loose contact and unofficial ranking with Dalaran, as well as keeping in touch with Jaina. Feyrin Raventalon lives as a highly respected figure by the majority of the public within Stormwind, though to the many vagabonds and adventurers of Stormwind... Feyrin is something other than respected... World of Warcraft With the passing of the Legion threat, Feyrin returned to Stormwind to address problems closer to home. The thugs ran rampant throughout the streets. Vigilantism, riots and murder was a common site within the city limits. With Feyrin appointed Lt. Commander by General Marcus Jonathan, and picking several dozen elite guards by hand, it started. Over the coarse of several months, things began to look better. With the aid of the Crimson Hound Brigade the last of the criminals eventually were round up and accounted for. It was then the Scourge struck. As all began to calm, the necropolis' slowly crept toward the gates of civilization, unleashing the horrors of the Scourge. As soon as this new threat was made apparent, the minions of darkness Nettias, Adorix the Frostlasher and Kennykk Kalas arose. In a literally and figuratively speaking intensely heated phase of combat between Kennykk and Feyrin within the center of Blackrock mountain, Kennykk was defeated and thrown into the core of the volcano, only to later arise (considerably less of a threat however). For payment of his years services and past political prowess, Feyrin was titled an official Baron of the Stormwind Court of Barons. As for Nettias and Adorix however, they retreated back into the darkness, striking at Stormwind on and off in devious attempts to corrupt it from the inside. With the threat of the necropolis' and Naxxramas beaten back, the Scourge were all but defeated and Stormwind safe... or so was thought. Burning Crusade Once again he faced the enemies of the dark beyond. The Dark Portal had opened once more, unleashing the beasts of the Abyss upon Azeroth. In a combined effort of the Argent Dawn, the Horde and the Alliance, the Legion was eventually beaten back. However... Feyrin was missing from the lines of combat. For some time he had been missing, having left the civilized world soon after Stormwind was safe of the Scourge threat. It took some time before Feyrin eventually returned, giving very little reason for his disappearance. He returned to a yet again disorganized, disintegrating and nearly defeated Stormwind City, crumbling in on itself. Following the source of corruption back to the Hand of Arthas' Nettias and Adorix the Frostlasher, Feyrin returned to his position amongst the Stormwind City Guard to continue his work. At Thoradin's wall, the united forces of the Stormwind City Guard, the Templar of the Rose, the Scarlet Battalion and the Crimson Hounds Brigade stood ground against several battalions of Scourge. With Feyrin, Dugald, Kanta, Sarobin and others serving as Generals, the wall was held. Confronting the threat head on, Nettias was eventually taken in, pursuing Adorix shortly after. Their final conflict leading to the Windrunner Spire, Feyrin and Adorix engaged in combat, the magical product of their fight growing so intense the entire spire eventually toppled, destroying Adorix and crippling Feyrin's body. Having returned (eventually) in one piece from the conflict, Feyrin continues his work among the guard. Wrath of the Lich King Coming soon... Wrath of the Lich King Stories “'The Vicarious'” It was spoken, like a whisper upon a distant gust of wind. Echoed like the murmur of a thousand pained souls. As pained as the suffering of a fatherless heir. “We’re all trapped down here...” rang through Feyrin’s skull like a queer church bell, “We’re all trapped.” He staggered to his feet as if a drunkard, swaying side to side in a daze. “What... who... where am I?” questioned Feyrin, the spinning surroundings fitting back together like puzzle pieces. There was darkness. Only darkness, a dimmed black and white filling in all that would be color, as if the rest of the spectrum were stripped away. Ghostly white flames lit pale wooden torches that hung from the cave’s walls. The black dirt walls possessed no entrance, no exit, only hauntingly hueless dirt in every direction. On the opposite side of the circular prison of dirt sat an odd figure though. The being was garbed in tight fitting leather, colorless black blood spattered across the vest. Her black, midnight hair was pinned back elegantly in a tail, loose strands framing moonlight pale skin and a gentle face. Her neck and the underside of her chin were blotched in blood as well. The frail looking figure slowly pushed itself to it’s feet, staring coldly toward Feyrin. “This is the Plane of Shadow, Father.” Thin, to the point of malnourished was the young girl. She stepped toward Feyrin, half-encircling him as his back pressed against the wall for support. “Don’t you remember me, Father?” questioned the girl, though she shown no expression. Feyrin, half stunned as the almost skeleton-like figure posed it’s question, regained himself if only for a moment. “Yes, of course Pay... how could I not? You were... are, my daughter. You sacrificed yourself to empower me with your essence so that I might survive the battle against the Frostlasher,” spoke Feyrin plainly, as if the story had been told a thousand times. The bloodied figure simply scoffed, displaying a fraudulent smirk as she strolled off toward a particularly dark section of the cave. She motioned toward the doorway sized blackness, looking to Feyrin, “Come, there’s more to find for you I think, in this land of shadows.” She waited patiently, watching her father’s every expression and motion. Cautiously, Feyrin plotted each of his steps with the greatest of hesitation, unsure of what was to come as he confronted the blackness in the dirt wall. Giving a final glance toward the being, Feyrin closed his eyes, placing his hands against the cold mixture of clay and soil. With a gentle push, he began to meld into the very wall, blending into the shadowy doorway like two eggs being beaten into a bowl. Memories, thoughts, dreams and desires all rushed past like a violent hurricane of the human psyche in the void of existence. As the moment began to pass, several taunting words scratched across Feyrin’s mind, etching a cut of curiosity into him. “Even you...” “We -are- you, after all...” “Shunned like the Baron’s ugly mutts, fed on the rarest of occasions, yet... we’ve been taken notice it seems by the Raven’s Talon,” spoke an oddly disfigured being. The new environment shone bright with a vibrant, pulsating white, remaining hueless, however. Another circular prison, though this time it was different. A cage of glass and wooden frames. Towering rectangular chunks of wavering uneven mirrors surrounded Feyrin, Pay and the new figure. In every direction, Feyrin’s reflection was visible. Oddly enough however, the reflection of the two other figures remained unseen. The new figure, draped in tattered dark cloth over it’s broad shoulders stood hunched before Feyrin. It’s body, cloaked in long feathers stood even higher than Feyrin by a good foot. It’s eyes a solid black, face ending in a viciously hooked beak. “Terokk reincarnate has returned... welcome to the Place of Beings, Raven’s Talon.” “I don’t understand,” spoke Feyrin, perplexed by the situation, “who are you?” As Feyrin’s gaze grew sterner toward the Arakkoa being, it began to shift. The Arakkoa slowly hobbled toward Feyrin, the reflections of Feyrin moving with the being. “I am Terokk’s... avatar, you could say. A separate being all in itself, though still very much a part of the same person,” squawked the Arakkoa, almost grinning toward Feyrin with vicious delights. “Come! You most likely seek many answers here. All will be answered soon... very soon,” the Arakkoa being squawked once more, swiftly turning toward the other side of the room. With several strides, it approached one of the mirrors, with the greatest of ease walking right through. The mirror shook and waved unsteadily, like ripples in a pond. As soon as the Arakkoa disappeared from sight, so did all reflections of Feyrin, leaving the mirrors blank. Feyrin stood perplexed, looking to his side toward Pay’s original place, only to find she had disappeared. With a grunt of agitation, he rolled his shoulders, following in the footsteps of the Arakkoa through the mysterious mirror. It was like a swift decent into madness, the clawing of a thousand tormented souls, scratching and digging at Feyrin. Skin bursting into ribbons, flesh sundered and torn from his body. The tormented cry of an army of spirits, cleaving the soul from the body to toss into the pit of starving hell hounds. The transition through the mirrored doorway held all this, though one voice stood out from the rest, it’s tone calm, with a hidden rage, “And you, Betrayer... you will remain here with us. And you, on your mighty pedestal, shall suffer a fate far worse than the rest...” Feyrin’s blurred vision restored after a long moment, having appeared on the other side of the mirror. He stood atop a long obsidian stone platform, hovering in a sea of pitch black. At his side stood silently the Arakkoa and Pay, staring directly forward. At the end of the platform loomed a pair of massive, thick stone pillars. Between these pillars, hung an oddly familiar beast. Feyrin could sense it’s hunger, it’s unquenchable thirst radiating from the being. It’s limbs were chained and bound to the pillars, every joint and section of it’s body tightly secured by the hauntingly black chains. It’s long snout, sporting two rows of jagged, saliva and blood painted teeth was held shut fast by a steel muzzle. It’s titanic sized body and lengthy arms and legs coated in a midnight black fur, which would blend into the surrounding blackness. It’s eyes, staring hungrily toward Feyrin, seemed to glow with supernatural light, having devoured the light from every corner of the now Shadow Plane. “Enter... Sandman... come closer, so that I might drink in your familiar face once more,” whispered the Worgen-like beast, yet it’s mouth refused to move as the whispers echoed through the empty plane of existence. It’s intense stare never faltered as it gazed upon Feyrin as it feasted upon his visage. Feyrin paused with a moment’s hesitation, still baffled by what was going on. “Sandman, Betrayer, Terokk... I’ve been called many things during my stay here. What exactly is going on? Who do you think I am?” he questioned with a demanding tone. Taking a wide stance, Feyrin’s hand slipped toward the rapier at his belt. The Worgen hung motionless, taking a moment either caught off guard for the question, or drawing out for dramatic purposes. Finally, it responded, “You have many a name here. The Betrayer of your own blood and kin. The Sandman, sending countless to a restless and terrible eternal slumber. Terokk... ruthless ruler, creator of a nation of madness, leaving it to swell and grow.” Feyrin’s dead stare faltered, looking questioningly toward Pay, only to find her a withering corpse, tattered leather soaked in blood. To his other side, the once Arakkoa was now a tall, slender man cloaked in royal blue leather, a elegant cloak enveloping him, and a large hood and mask. Both new figures slowly strode up toward the end of the levitating platform... next to the once Worgen being. Where the Worgen once hung, now hovered a haunting image. The Bastard Blade of Raventalon, chained and bound to the pillars. All around the platform began to swirl spirits, one by one coming into vision, slowly enveloping the surroundings until nothing but a luminous ghosts spiraled violently in a circle around the area. “We are the shunned, the broken, fragmented pieces. We are The Many of your kingdom, Feyrin... your kingdom of pain!” echoed the voices of thousands, the three figures before Feyrin standing out the most. The voices were pained, furious, raging. “We’re all trapped down here. We’re all trapped. Even you’re trapped. We -are- you after all. And you, Raventalon... you will remain here with us. And you, on your mighty pedestal, shall suffer a fate far worse than The Many...” The disturbing corpse of Pay slowly hobbled forward several steps, gawking with it’s loose hinged jaw at Feyrin. “Don’t you remember me, Father? Don’t you remember? Remember how you had forsaken me! Devoured me! For the sake of your own selfish goals! Don’t you?!” screeched the image of Pay, the corpse slowly disintegrating and falling into dust, quickly being swept up into the violent spiral of spirits. The man in blue quickly strode forward with an aggressive demeanor, crossing his arms as his deep hazel eyes seemed to pierce through Feyrin. “And do you remember me? I am Arterious Raventalon. I am your... avatar, you could say. A separate being all in itself, though still very much a part of the same person. You once wore this mask, this name... masquerading through this world, devouring souls,” snapped the man in blue, evaporating into dust as well to join the hurricane of souls. Last to speak was the blade, it metallic hollow voice was the only one not to have any reverberation or echo to it, simply... empty. “The Many are the vicarious... we are the puppet masters... I am the hungry. We are your very creations, Feyrin Raventalon. We are the very byproduct of your existence. This image you see before you is simply the physical manifestation of your every drop of rage. It is your curse, Feyrin... and we will not be persuaded otherwise, for it is yours to bear... and well will be sure of that.” As the hollowed voice stopped, all went silent. The tones and pitch... all sound drowned out by a single note. The note grew louder, high in pitch unimaginably, yet deeper than the mightiest drum. It viciously vibrated the chest, yet split the skull like the cleave of an axe. Clenching his head, Feyrin dropped to his knees helplessly, clenching his eyes and shouted to the void of a sky... yet nothing came out. And all went black... It was cold... almost unbearably so. The frigid northern winds wrapped around Feyrin, who knelt submissively on the snow blanketed obsidian stone ground. His eyes, rolling back forward from the back of his skull saw nothing but a blur. The wet sensation of blood was felt, dripping from his nose, the taste of salt upon his lips. His fingers began to slowly unclench the sides of his head, dropping to his sides in exhaustion. Feyrin’s surroundings slowly began to come back to, revealing where he was. It was the Black Citadel. Dropped to his knees, Feyrin sat at front of Arthas’ very doorstep, a battalion of soldiers laid to waste, scattered amidst the steps up to the citadel’s gates.The once drained colors soon came back to vision as the Shadow Plane faded away. Surrounding him stood hordes of deformed and malicious corpses, skeletons and other horrific beasts of the Lich King. One particular being stood out however, looming, staring directly down toward Feyrin. “And so, Big Brother’s come to pay a visit, has he? And he’s brought friends? How precious,” spoke Eúthien... =Family Tree= Damion Wolfrunner Geldiana Darkbanner ↓→ ←↓ ↓ Elendror Raventalon Kyltia Wolfrunner ↓→ ←↓ ↓ ↓→ → → → → → → → → → → ↓ ↓ Sydial Creed Feyrin Raventalon Eúthien Raventalon ↓ ↓ ↓ Marie Horseman ↓ ↓→ ←↓ ↓ ↓ ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ↓ → → → → → → → → → Sarobin Creed ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ Rhy'vanna ↓→ ← ← ←↓ ↓ ↓ ↓→ → → ←↓ ↓ Lydia May ↓ ↓Iradeeh Cloudcat ↓ ↓ ↓← ← ← ←↓ ↓→ → → →↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ Sydile Creed Pay Raventalon Farn'ain Raventalon Eyther'al Raventalon